George Clinton & P-Funk Are Readying the Mothership 3.0

The Mothership is coming. On July 5, George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic will descend on the Caesars Superdome in New Orleans for the ESSENCE Fest, where they’ll unveil the third iteration of the iconic stage prop for its 50th anniversary. The original Mothership touched down at the Municipal Auditorium in October 1976 as part of the P-Funk Earth Tour. The 10-piece band was on the road in support of the Parliament album Mothership Connection, which had arrived a year prior, and Clinton had envisioned his own “funk opera.” With the help of theatrical stage designer Jules Fisher and set designer Peter Larkin, the 1,200-pound Mothership came to life and was used as a vessel for Clinton’s alter-ego, Dr. Funkenstein, who would emerge from the ship in all his psychedelic glory. The updated version, which Clinton recently inspected in Nashville, where it was built, is almost an exact replica of the original, but with modern technology and lighter materials. 

Over the last 50 years, Clinton has evolved with the times, riding the waves of doo-wop, Motown, rock ’n roll, psychedelic rock, experimental jazz, hip-hop and everything in between. The fact he’s made it to 84 years old (he’ll be 85 on July 22) is arguably the most incredible feat he’s ever pulled off. Clinton funked around—and he funked hard. 

But, like Ice-T once said, music is like the fountain of youth—just ask Mick Jagger or Keith Richards. Not only has Clinton remained active, but he’s often the main event. Whether he’s being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, performing at the Grammys with Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre, getting a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award, or rapping on stage with Rakim as he did at the 2025 Hip-Hop Grandmaster Awards last September, Clinton is omnipresent. In fact, when he got on the phone, he was mere hours away from hopping on a plane to Los Angeles for the BET Awards as part of a tribute to D’Angelo, who died in October 2025. 

VIBE had a chance to speak with Clinton about the reimagined Mothership, his alter-ego, Dr. Funkenstein, what he thinks about sampling, and how he plans to live forever. 

VIBE: What are you most looking forward to about the unveiling of the new Mothership on July 5, especially back in New Orleans? 

George Clinton: Oh wow, well this is the third time and third time’s a charm, so I’m looking forward to it. I saw it in Nashville, and it looked up to par for this generation, and I’m ready for it. The band is ready for it. We’ve been on tour for the last four or five years killing it without the Mothership, so it’s gonna be all of that. I can’t wait. We gonna open the show now instead of close it. We needed more time. 

What’s the difference between this one and the other two? 

It’s made from the same blueprint. It’s actually the same ship, made from the same blueprint as the first one. We did it down in Nashville, where they make all the current props for all the rock stars, Beyoncé and all that. It’s probably up to date with the lights for this era, but other than that, the ship looks the same. 

It probably doesn’t weigh 1,200 pounds. 

It probably don’t, but it look like it do ‘cause they can do that with this technology now. 

I hate that I have to miss it, but it’s going to go around the world at some point, right? 

Ah yeah, got to do that. 

What was innovative about the original Mothership?

Back in those days, in the early ‘70s, the only big, big, big prop was Pink Floyd, and they made their whole thing based on that big production. I always thought that’s where P-Funk should go. I wanted to have a “funk opera.” That’s what was going on in my head. Motown had peaked. Beatles was peaking, and rock ’n roll was getting like Broadway. Hair was like a rock show with a band, and Jesus Christ Superstar was the same way. I always wanted to be in that funk-opera realm, where it could be a group or a Broadway play. We had enough members. There were 10 of us, and the Mothership just peaked at that time. It was the right thing to do. After we did it, we had trouble finding the next thing. I just ran my mouth one day, “We going to New Orleans,” and that was a hard one trying to come up with [laughs].

By now, you had added a horn section, right? 

Yeah, when Bootsy [Collins] came, it was actually three groups there, including Parliament and Funkadelic. He brought Maceo Parker and Fred Wesley from James Brown’s band, the J.B.’s. So now it’s even bigger. Still, we traveled like it was one band. We were all on the same bus for a while when we first went out. Then we got three buses later, but at first, all of us was on one bus. 

What was that like? 

It was like a football team or a hockey team. When we got the Mothership, we were able to spread out a little bit ‘cause we got trucks to carry it and buses for each of us ‘cause we had hit records. We had 70 people at one time.

That’s a big crew. What was the difference between George Clinton and Dr. Funkenstein? Can you tell me a little bit about your alter-ego? 

He was out there. He was a character. I think that was in my personality even before I said the words “Dr. Funkenstein.” I think I acted out the character in the years of Maggot Brain and Funkadelic, so much so that the girls that would want to be with the character? I was scared of them! If you wanna be with that dude, I’m scared of you! [Laughs]

Did you get into character onstage though? 

All of that was a good excuse to get out there and do what I do. We kind of majored in clowning, so all of that was straight outta the barbershop. When you put a big prop with that, it looks extraordinary. 

I’m actually at a hotel in Harlem next to the Apollo, and I would have loved to hang out with you in a barbershop around here back in the day. I can imagine laughing all day. 

Wow! My brother—well, my fake brother, but he’s a member of the band—Ron Ford used to work right up on 7th Avenue and 125th Street in this shop called Playboys. You can ask any old school person about it. It’s where all the stars got their hair done. We used to go over there to get our hair done up, and they’d come see us in Jersey to get theirs done. The parlor is where we hung out when I’d skip school. 

How did you go from the sound of your doo-wop group, The Parliaments, to the sound of Parliament-Funkadelic?

I started in the ‘50s when rock ’n roll and doo-wop was just becoming a thing. Bob B. Soxx and the Blue Jeans was the big craze just coming out of the Big Band era of the ‘30s and ‘40s. You started getting R&B, and radio started playing rock ’n roll like Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and Elvis. We were singing doo-wop, which was the R&B version of what would eventually become pop. In about ’59, between Motown coming into play, Dionne Warwick and Burt Bacharach, that was the sound we were hearing. We went from doo-wop into Motown until about ’66. I was basically a songwriter and into the Motown sounds and all the sounds of New York. We saw Motown going into hard rock, rock like the Beatles, Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin. Then we did Funkadelic and Parliament in the midst of the Beatles and when Motown was changing into psychedelic rock. We changed it from there and started doing Funkadelic music. During the ’70s, it was P-Funk, the Brides of Funkenstein, Funkadelic—we had our own genre until the ‘80s. Then hip-hop came along, and funk was the DNA for hip-hop. 

When hip-hop began to emerge in the ‘70s and ‘80s, what did you think of sampling? 

I felt really good about it ‘cause I was waiting on whatever the next thing was gonna be. We were pretty aware of when our thing was gonna peak, and we were trying to figure out our way to stay around. When we saw that they were making these things called mixtapes, with the cassette machines and making beats that seemed to be a thing in New York, we didn’t think there were going to be records like that, but we thought it was kinda cute. On Mothership Connection, we had done the deejay thing. We pretty much started that deejay trend, and deejays became stars after that. As a matter of fact, in order to get your record on the radio, you had to start going to deejay pools. From that, they went to deejays in clubs. Sugarhill Gang’s B-Side to “Troy” was “Girls,” and that was our first hip-hop sample. [Editor’s Note: “Girls” is a rap adaptation of the 1974 soul jam “Girls” originally performed by The Moments and The Whatnauts.]

That was ’79, 1980. 

Yep. We realized by 1980, it was getting ready to be something. We didn’t know what it was going to be, but it was better than the records they were selling in those K-tel packages on TV. 

It gave your music another life. 

That’s what I’m sayin’. So we hurried up and made alliances with the ones in the Bronx and all the rappers in the Sugarhill Gang. We knew right from the get-go, so I did a record called “Sample Some of This and Some of That.” I made it really easy for them to sample. I didn’t get paid for it. I’m still fighting for it. It kept us relevant, and we were still able to sell out places and get a brand-new Mothership. The finance part is going to happen. I ain’t worried about that. My thing is not to stop. I know the system wants us to stop, but we ain’t stopping. We part of the Afrofuturism. We going until “e-i-e-i-o.” 

I’m glad you mentioned Afrofuturism. As I understand, that term was applied to P-Funk later. 

It was around, but you thought of it in terms of experimental or abstract jazz. 

Like Sun Ra? 

Yeah, Sun Ra and out-there music. Outer space music. Far out music. It was around. When we did Maggot Brain and Free Your Mind, they started calling it that then, but it didn’t catch on as a phrase. We may have even mentioned it in one song or another. We were definitely into the concept of playing the most bluesiest, funkiest music, sometimes with classical music mixed in ‘cause we had the chops of Bernie Worrell and the guitar playing of Eddie Hazel. We could go off into outer space in all directions. We definitely talked about it on the stage in the ‘80s. We did one of Fela Kuti’s songs, so we were always into the tribal part of African music and futuristic music of synthesizers. That was conscious shit. We did that with the Mothership and Afrofuturism. Now that’s a concept around the world. It helped us stay around. 

I’m glad you mentioned the word “synthesizer.” You’ve worked with numerous hip-hop artists over the years, including Ice Cube, Wu-Tang, 2Pac, and Outkast, including their song “Synthesizer.” What did you learn from them?

When we say “One Nation Under a Groove,” I found out that that’s the best way to look at it. It helped us stay relevant and in touch with guys like André 3000 and Big Boi. I’m on two or three of their records. You learn a lot from the kids and the next new thing. When I did that, I was working with Dallas Austin in Atlanta.

Oh wow. 

He was working with TLC and Brandy and all of them, so I was like granddad when they were doing all of that. Matter of fact, Outkast, Dungeon Family, all them was like one big group, almost like Parliament-Funkadelic. I was very much a part of that situation. A lot of people don’t know it, but when Dallas was around, he did a couple songs on the Hey, Man, Smell My Finger album I did with Prince. 

I didn’t know that. Did Dr. Dre have to get your permission first to do The Chronic?

Basically, before they ever got started, when they were deejaying, they asked for permission to use Uncle Jamm’s Army. That was one of our albums, Uncle Jam Wants You. Battlecat, Dre, Yella—all of them was doing the DJ thing, so we was definitely going to be a part of that. Everything we put out was all around Compton, L.A., and San Francisco, so we felt a part of that anyway. When they did that, after seeing what they were doing in New York with the samples, we pretty much knew, ‘Oh yeah, we gonna be a part of this.’ We wasn’t getting paid or anything. We didn’t even know how we got paid. De La Soul was the first one that paid us. Like I said, being relevant was more important than stopping it at that moment. I was at the Grammys with Snoop and Dre, and I said to them then, just make sure the writers get paid. It was out of their hands at that time, but we still cool, and not only did verses with Dre, but I did 2Pac, Snoop, Kendrick, Ice Cube—all of them. When I did “Bop Gun” with Cube, we went to the Grammys twice with that record. Kirk Franklin did “One Nation,” and Cube did “Bop Gun,” which is the same record. 

You funked so hard for decades. What is your secret to living so long George?! 

Funk is its own reward. That’s the energy. The chance to funk keeps me forever wanting to funk. 

You’re not going anywhere. 

That ain’t even in the plans yet. 

Better not be! Even so, you’ll beam back down on the Mothership. 

OK!? I ain’t going nowhere. I’ll find a way to stay around. 

If anyone can do it, it’s going to be you. 

I’ll clone myself.